


He falls asleep on your shoulder.

by charlietango



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel Takes Care of Dean Winchester, Destiel Wedding, Episode: s13e06 Tombstone, Hunt Gone Wrong, Inspired by Poetry, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Blood, Movie Night, Post-Hunt (Supernatural), Purgatory, Wedding Night, Wedding Rings, ends with fluff, he made him watch it!, idk I tried to format it like a poem, well its pre-Tombstone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:09:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29834424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlietango/pseuds/charlietango
Summary: Four times Dean fell asleep on Castiel's shoulder.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41





	He falls asleep on your shoulder.

He falls asleep on your shoulder.

You’re both exhausted, but you don’t need sleep like he does.

The tree at your back is rough and unforgiving.

The monster (no, you remind yourself: his friend) gives you a look, still apprehensive about you and worried for him.

You understand.

You don’t think you’re worth the trouble, but you don’t want to cast doubt on his worthiness.

You don’t want him to look bad.

You want to prove that he’s safe with you, so in defiance you don’t get up.

A screech in the distance startles you out of your respite.

He springs to his feet, makeshift blade in hand, and runs.

He doesn’t look back.

He trusts you to follow him, and you do (there will come a time soon when you won’t).

You don’t get a chance to think about the warmth you felt.

  
He falls asleep on your shoulder.

He must have been tired after the long day, but he insisted on watching this movie with you.

He wanted you to be there, wanted to share this with you.

He sat next to you.

Even so, you worry he’ll wake up and jerk away from you.

You don’t want to deal with that rejection, with his shoulder turning cold, yet you dutifully watch the screen.

As the man and woman sway together in the snow, you wonder if that’s what he wants.

When the deep timbre of the voiceover fades, you get up.

His hand flexes in the empty space you leave on his bed.

He doesn’t wake, but you think his face betrays disappointment (maybe “but you hope” is the proper phrase).

You don’t let yourself believe he’s reaching for you.

He falls asleep on your shoulder.

You think about shrugging to keep him conscious, but you let him rest; it wasn’t a head injury.

His cheek bounces hard on your clavicle as the tires go over a rough patch of road.

He makes a pained noise in the back of his throat, but it doesn’t wake him fully.

He doesn’t move away from you.

His brother catches your eye in the rearview mirror, apologetic and concerned.

You look back, reassuring and penitent.

You couldn’t heal his wounds on the road, could only tie rough strips of cloth around his thigh, but you’ve got him now.

He’ll be fine (but will you?).

You hold his head steady with one hand, his blood-soaked temple warm in your palm, as the car speeds down the highway.

He falls asleep on your shoulder.

You’re both still in your dress shirts, but your matching ties are undone and your suit jackets are discarded.

The light from the forgotten television in the hotel room glints off the new piece of jewelry on your finger.

A matching sparkle catches your eye from where his hand is draped over your stomach.

You intertwine your fingers with his.

He moves closer to you.

He makes soft noises in his sleep, shifting slightly - for once it sounds like a good dream.

You know if you stay as you are, there will be matching aches in your necks in the morning (it’s nothing that can’t be soothed with a kiss).

You rejoice in the warmth radiating from his body, in the softness of the pillows at your back.

  
You fall asleep with his head on your shoulder.


End file.
